Nina and a student have fun learning

Nina recently gave three substantial workshops for aspiring writers in the South Shore area of Nova Scotia, based on her Aurora Award-nominated writing guidebook, “The Fiction Writer: Get Published, Write Now“. Held at the Bridgewater Library, Nina engaged and challenged students in an actively participated workshop to hone their skills as successful writers. Students participated in writing exercises, and had their stories, query letters and ”elevator pitches” critiqued.  

Her workshops, covered by Vernon Oikle in the South Shore Now, included:

Workshop No. 1, which was titled “Getting Started … and Finishing”. In this session, Nina shared the strategies and techniques she used to write, finish and successfully publish while serving as a full-time scientist, teacher and mother. The workshop reviewed common misconceptions in the writing and publishing industry and provided practical strategies to help aspiring authors succeed.

 Workshop No. 2, “The Art and Science of Craft”, covered several models of storytelling, and examined the interrelationship of plot and theme, setting and character in a book’s overall story arc. Nina explored the language of page-turning writing with examples on the use of the five senses, power verbs, use of dialogue and other writing techniques that will transform your page into a compelling read.

Workshop No 3, “The Science and Magic of Marketing”, focused on a different but critically necessary creative process in an author’s writing and publishing career – revision, marketing and promotion.

Response to Nina’s workshops was very positive. Here are some of the things students had to say about Nina and her workshops:

“Nina was engaging and inspiring in a low-key way, no hype, practical, good humour. This was a really pleasant and helpful experience. I was able to use specifics that were discussed to immediately improve my writing.”–Susie Buck
 
“Nina was very knowledgable, relaxed, personable, unpretentious.”
 
“I enjoyed it. I was intrigued. Nina put her heart into her workshop.”–Darlene Tong
 
“I found what I had been searching for a long time.”–Candice Croft 
  
“What you’ve done for me, Nina, is you’ve just opened up a whole new world. You’ve shown me how to put soul into my books … You’ve transformed me from what I considered an oddball to somebody special and for that it’s worth a fortune.”–Hectorine Roy

The series of workshops were filmed as part of “The Writers Toolkit” series and will be available for sale shortly. Go to www.ninamunteanu.com or here for news on availability and how you can get a great deal on the 3 DVD set.

Blu-ray Edge – Blu-ray movies, players, news, and more.

There is something terrifyingly daunting about writing and sending a succinct and compelling summary of your novel packaged in just a few pages. I had a right to be terrified. In some ways the synopsis is the hardest thing for a novelist to write. Yet it is the first thing most publishers and agents want (and have time) to see of your cherished project (aside from those sample chapters, of course). Every fiction writer who wants to sell in the current market must know how to write a synopsis because that’s what an editor wants to see first. Most editors (if they’re good) are overworked with scarce enough time to answer their phones, much less their mail.

There are several reasons to write that dreaded synopsis, and way before you finish your book, too. First of all, I’d like to dispel some common misconceptions about synopses:

A synopsis is NOT an outline. Both are useful to the writer, yet each serves a very different purpose. An outline is a tool (usually just for the writer) that sketches plot items of a book. It provides a skeleton or framework of people, places and their relationships to the storyline that permits the writer to ultimately gauge scene, setting, and character depth or even determine whether a character is required (every character must have a reason to be in the book, usually to move the plot). For writers just beginning, this is an excellent tool to keep the narrative spare and compelling and to remove superfluous characters and other things (a common beginning writer inclination). A synopsis, on the other hand, is an in-depth summary of the entire book that weaves in thematic elements with plot to portray a compelling often multi-level story arc. This is usually what an editor wants to see, although I have seen them request an outline as well. To put it basically, the outline describes what happens when and to whom, while the synopsis includes the “why” part.

There is no such thing as a “Killer Synopsis”; a synopsis that is so good it will sell the book outright. However, stories of such “fairy-tale” occurrences do continue to abound, like the myth of an “overnight success” (in which the author’s hard work in areas related are somehow overlooked). No publisher chooses to buy a book on the basis of a synopsis only. Such an event could only result from a combination of serendipitous factors, one of the most important ones being timing (luck) and what an editor is currently looking for in an imprint.

“Killer synopsis” aside, what a synopsis does (along with the sample chapters and extremely important query letter) is get your manuscript read by an editor. That’s the real purpose of a synopsis. An editor makes his/her decision to look at your manuscript based on these three items: query letter (intro to you), sample chapters, and synopsis. Ultimately, their decision resides with whether your project fits their own imprint at the time.

If that isn’t reason enough to write a synopsis of your novel, here are two others:

A synopsis of your novel goes beyond the outline to help polish elements of story arc, characterization with plot and setting with story. The synopsis can answer questions perplexing the author, stuck on a scene or plot item. It helps you weave your novel’s elements into a well-integrated story that is compelling at many levels. For this reason, it makes sense to write drafts of your synopsis as you go along in the novel; that way it’s useful to both you and to the editor and then it’s more or less written when you need to submit it along with sample chapters…and not quite as daunting a task either.

Lastly, your well-written synopsis is often used internally by the publishing house staff (e.g., by artist, copywriter, and sales department) once your novel is accepted.

The Ultimate Rejection

Enduring and surviving rejection is part of every writer’s successful career. Rejection letters can be part of a writer’s toolkit to success. This comes from objectively perceiving them as opportunities in a long process of relationship-building and the business of writing and publishing.

Writers often witness an evolution in rejection letters as they learn more about their craft and about their markets. The ability to recognize the evolutionary steps can be useful in determining your next move in that particular market.

Below I describe one sequence of a manuscript’s evolutionary path. These don’t necessarily follow a chronological path for any particular manuscript; nor am I suggesting that your personal writer’s path will follow this particular pattern. Take these for what they may represent to you for any particular manuscript’s journey to success.

• Lowest form: the form-letter, with no name or signature—you get no information from this except that they’re probably swamped with submissions. File the letter and try them again with another story; you can even play a game of it to see how many submissions it takes to get “recognized”. Meantime send the rejected story elsewhere.

• Next lowest form: Personalized form letter with your name on it and a name and signature on it. Congratulations! You are now a person. And you will likely be remembered when you submit another story here.

• Higher on the Evolutionary Path: a form letter that includes a personalized note about your work and why it was rejected (often with an added comment about the story or your writing). You have made a mark. Try them again!

• Even Higher on the Evolutionary Path: a personalized letter that explains why your story was rejected—this says as much about the editor as it does about how they felt about your story; that they are taking the time to write to you and give you suggests means you are worth their valuable time. You have an opportunity to begin a relationship with this editor. Play fair.

• Highest on the Path: a personalized, perhaps even handwritten, note that specifies why they rejected your piece with suggestions for revision (and resubmission) or invitation to submit another piece. Congratulations! This is the beginning of a relationship. Revise and resubmit.

A story’s ending should conclude the story’s plot and theme satisfactorily to the reader. The last thing you want to do is create an ending or dénouement that struggles in its conclusions. The kind of ending you choose for your story will depend on the kind of story you are telling: one that rises to a climax or one that returns home.

According to Ansen Dibell, author of Elements of Fiction Writing: Plot, successful endings come in two basic shapes: 1) circular and 2) linear.

Circular Endings

This is where beginning and ending connect in a circular story. In such a story, the end and the beginning are much more alike than they are to the middle. This is because the end reflects the promise of the beginning. Framed stories use the same technique, except the beginning and end “frame” are more like bookends, supporting the story from the outside and made of a visibly different structure (e.g., often portrayed in prologue and epilogue fashion and often in different POV, tense, style, etc.).

Circular endings, and their circular stories, are often used in quest-adventure stories. The “Hero’s Journey” is a common plot approach. The main character sets out on a quest to find or learn or accomplish something, passes through trials, and finally succeeds in his mission and returns home with his prize to share (often insight or wisdom). Ultimately, the protagonist grows/changes/achieves then brings that wealth back home to alter his pre-existing everyday life. Beginning and end mirror and contrast one another.

Circular endings must do the job of showing the hero’s “homecoming”, how she is changed through the turning point in the middle of the story, and what she has brought to the ordinary world to change it.

Linear Endings

Linear stories and their endings run more like a marathon up a hill, with slides, diversions and hard climbs, until they reach the summit and climax (the highest point of conflict—and resolution). Once the result of the conflict is achieved, the story is at an end. Most straight adventure stories are of this type.

Reflective vs. Narrative Ending

Roy Peter Clark, author of Writing Tools: 50 Essential Strategies for Every Writer, reflects that “great endings bring back the whole story.” He cites the “reflective ending” of The Great Gatsby, in which the narrator reflects back, pulling together the important narrative threads like a master weaver, to make meaningful conclusions.

“A powerful alternative,” adds Clark, “is the ‘narrative ending’, a final scene that crowns the action.” Both types of ending work when masterfully handled. The former is essentially “telling” and the latter is essentially “showing”. You choose. Both work.

Christopher Vogler, author of The Writer’s Journey, describes a 12-stage journey based on the three-act storyline of the Greeks. It is also based on Joseph Campbell’s 8-step transformation model.

The twelve steps fall within the three Acts, which consist of:

• Separation: ordinary world; call to adventure; refusal of the call; meeting with the mentor; and crossing the threshold
• Initiation & Transformation: tests, allies and enemies; approach to the inmost cave; ordeal (abyss); reward/seizing the sword (transformation & revelation)
• Return: the road block; resurrection/atonement; return with the elixir

Below, I describe each step and provide an example from the popular fantasy movie, Star Wars.

ACT ONE: SEPARATION

Ordinary World: Describes the Hero’s world with its problems and how the hero may or may not quite fit in.

Call to Adventure: the herald presents the hero with a problem, challenge and/or adventure; irrevocably changing the ordinary world—in STAR WARS this is when Obi Wan approaches Luke to join him on his mission to Aldaraan.

Refusal of the Call: Our reluctant hero balks at the threshold of adventure. In STARWARS Luke refuses at first until he finds his relatives killed.

Meeting with the Mentor: The mentor provides the hero with a gift to help her through the threshold. In STAR WARS Obi Wan gives Luke his light saber.

Crossing the Threshold: The hero commits to the adventure and enters the Special World. In STAR WARS this happens when Luke returns to Obi Wan after seeing his relatives brutally killed.

ACT TWO: INITIATION & TRANSFORMATION

Tests, Allies, Enemies: The hero must face tests, makes allies and enemies and begins to learn the rules of the Special World. In STAR WARS Luke is initiated into his special world by Obi Wan in A New Hope.

Approach to the Inmost Cave: The hero reaches the edge of the most dangerous place, often where the object of her quest resides. In STAR WARS this is the scene in The Empire Strikes Back when Luke willingly enters the trap set for him and confronts Vader in Cloud City.

Ordeal (the Abyss): Our hero hits bottom, where she faces “death” and is on the brink of battle with the most powerful hostile force. In STAR WARS Luke steps into the abyss, choosing almost certain death when forced to surrender at his father’s bidding to the dark side in Cloud City.

Reward/seizing the sword (Transformation & Revelation): Having survived “death” (of fear or ignorance) our hero—and the reader—receives a reward or elixir in the form of an epiphany and transforms. In STAR WARS, Luke returns in Return of the Jedi transformed and mature with new powers.

ACT THREE: THE RETURN

The Road Block: Our hero must deal with the consequences of confronting the dark forces of the Ordeal (e.g., often the chase scene). In STAR WARS this is when Luke is forced to fight his father on board the Death Star, overseen by the evil Emperor.

Resurrection/Atonement: The hero is transformed in this climactic moment through her experience and seeks atonement with her reborn self, now in harmony with the “new” world; the imbalance which sent her on her journey, mostly corrected or path made clear. In STAR WARS this is when Luke makes the choice not to kill his father, is almost destroyed by the emperor but for Vader’s intervention and Luke reconciles with his father.

Return with the Elixir: Our hero returns to the Ordinary World with some elixir, treasure, or lesson from the Special World. In STAR WARS the last scenes with Luke and his Jedi “family” suggest a new life rich in lessons.

This article is an excerpt from Nina Munteanu’s The Fiction Writer: Get Published, Write Now! (Starfire World Syndicate)

The world of fairy tales and myth is peopled with recurring character types and relationships. Heroes on a quest, heralds and wise old men or women who provide them with “gifts”, shady fellow-travelers—threshold guardians—who may “block” the path, tricksters who confuse and complicate things and evil villains who simply want to destroy our hero. Joseph Campbell called them archetypes. In psychology, an archetype is a model of a person, personality or behavior. For instance, a mother-figure is an archetype. Archetypes are found in nearly all forms of literature, with their motifs being predominantly rooted in folklore.

Assigning an archetype to a character allows you to clarify that character’s role in the story as well as to determine the overall theme of the story itself. Archetypes are therefore an important tool in the universal language of storytelling, just as myth serves the overall purpose of supplying “the symbols that carry the human spirit forward.” (Joseph Campbell). Campbell even described the archetype as something expressed biologically and wired into every human being.

An archetype need not be fixed; that is, a particular character may evolve and function through several archetypes. This makes characters more real, interesting and less allegorical. The seven most useful archetypes for the writer according to Christopher Vogler (author of A Writer’s Journey) are:

· Hero
· Mentor
· Herald
· Threshold guardian
· Shape shifter
· Shadow
· Trickster

The Hero

A hero is someone willing to sacrifice his own needs for others. Vogler says that the hero archetype “represents the ego’s search for identity and wholeness.” The hero provides a character for us to identify with. She is usually the principal POV character in a story and has qualities most readers can (or want to) identify with. This means someone with flaws like you and me (not a cardboard cutout of infinite virtue). The function of the hero is to grow and change through her journey as she encounters other archetypes. Every hero is on a quest, a mission, or a journey, whether it is an actual physical journey or (and usually combined with) a psychological journey toward “home” (salvation or redemption) through sacrifice. “The true mark of the hero, says Vogler, is in the act of sacrifice, “the hero’s willingness to give up something of value, perhaps even her own life, on behalf of an ideal or a group,” and ultimately for the greater good. A hero is a true altruist.

Heroes may be willing or unwilling. Some can be described as anti-heroes, who are usually notably flawed characters that must grow significantly to achieve the status of true hero. Often the anti-hero starts off behaving more like a villain, like the character Crais in Farscape. The wounded anti-hero may be a “heroic knight in tarnished armor, a loner who has rejected society or been rejected by it,” according to Vogler. Examples include Jim Stark in Rebel Without a Cause or Aragorn in Lord of the Rings. The catalyst hero provides an exception to the rule of hero undergoing the most change. This type of hero shows less of a character arc but precipitates significant change or transformation in other protagonists. A good example is the character, David Adams, in Ben Bova’s Colony.

The Mentor

The mentor is usually a positive figure who aids or trains the hero. The mentor often possesses divine wisdom and has faith in the hero and shows great enthusiasm, as a result. The word “enthusiasm” itself means god-inspired or having a god in you. The mentor represents the “Self”, the god within us, says Vogler; a higher Self that is wiser, nobler and more godlike.

The mentor often gives the hero a “gift”—once the hero has earned it, that is. The gift is usually something important for the hero’s use on his journey; either a weapon to destroy a “monster” or a “talisman” to enlighten the hero in deciding the path of her journey. A good example of this is in Star Wars, when Luke’s mentor, Obi Wan, provides him with his father’s light saber (Luke’s magic talisman).

The mentor also serves as inventor, the hero’s conscience, as motivator, or information-provider. In love stories the mentor may function in the role of initiation. Vogler describes many types of mentor from fallen mentors to dark mentors, shamans, and comics.

The Herald

Heralds announce the coming of significant change, whether the hero likes it or not (and usually they don’t). In Act One, we usually find the hero struggling, getting by in her Ordinary World; yearning, like Luke Skywalker on Tatooine, for “more”. Often not even realizing it. The herald is a new energy that enters the story and makes it impossible for the hero to remain in status quo. The herald tips the scales. This could be in the form of a person, an event, a condition or just information that shifts the hero’s balance and changes her world, as a result. Nothing will ever be the same.

The herald delivers the call to adventure. In Star Wars, Ben Kenobi, who also serves as Luke Skywalker’s mentor, issues the call when he invites Luke to join him on his mission to Alderaan. The herald also provides the hero with motivation.

The Threshold Guardian

As his title aptly describes, this archetype guards the threshold of “Separation from the Ordinary World” on the hero’s journey to attain his “prize” and achieve his destiny. Threshold guardians are usually not the main antagonist. In the Harry Potter series, this role may be fulfilled by Malfoy, Snape or Filch, even; while the main antagonist is provided, of course, by the character of Voldemort.

Threshold guardians spice up the story by providing obstacles the hero must overcome. They help to round-out the hero’s journey and develop his character arc. In many cases, they may even be more interesting than the main villain. In rare cases, the threshold guardian may, in fact, be a secret helper, placed in the hero’s path to test his ability and commitment to his journey. Ultimately, this is the role of the threshold guardian: to test the hero on her path.

A hero succeeds when she recognizes a threshold guardian as providing an opportunity to strengthen her powers, or resolve her will. Threshold guardians aren’t defeated so much as incorporated by the hero, as she learns their tricks, absorbs them and goes on. “Ultimately”, says Vogler, “fully evolved heroes feel compassion for their apparent enemies and transcend rather than destroy them.”

The Shape Shifter

The shape shifter archetype adds dramatic tension to the story and provides the hero with a puzzle to solve. This archetype serves as “a catalyst for change and a symbol of the psychological urge to transform”, according to Vogler. The shape shifter can seem one thing and in fact be another. They are often mendacious and crafty.

The shape shifter brings doubt and suspense to the story and tests the hero’s abilities to discern her path. The hero often evolves through her interactions with this slippery character. The character of the Palpatine in Star Wars appears good and is really evil. Even the character Yoda in Star Wars, is a shape shifter, initially masking his ancient wisdom with a foolish childlike appearance when Luke first encounters him.

The Shadow
The monster under the bed, repressed feelings, deep trauma, a festering guilt; these all possess the dark energy of the shadow. This is the dark force of the unexpressed, unrealized, rejected, feared aspects of the hero and represented by the main antagonist or villain. The shadow challenges the hero in ways far more powerful than the threshold guardian. Voldermort in the Harry Potter series; Darth Vader in Star Wars; the aliens in War of the Worlds. These are all shadows and worthy opponents for the hero, bringing out the best in her and usually demanding the ultimate in self-sacrifice (the hero’s destiny).

The Trickster

Practically every Shakespearian play contains a jester or fool, who not only serves as comic relief but as commentator. This is because tricksters are often witty and clever. The comedy of most successful comedians touches upon the pulse of a culture by offering commentary that is truism.

This article is an excerpt from The Fiction Writer: Get Published, Write Now!” Starfire World Syndicate), May 2009 (Chapter J).

Before you submit your “science fiction” short story to a magazine that publishes science fiction, it’s wise for you to know what the science fiction genre is. And what it isn’t. Richard Treitel provides us with a pretty good definition of science fiction: fiction set in a world that differs from our everyday world in a way that importantly involves science or technology. http://www.treitel.org/Richard/sf/sf.html . The following 5 points describe the genre of science fiction. Does your story embrace them?

1. Science fiction is the literature of change according to Hugo- and Nebula-award winning SF author Robert J. Sawyer. Usually something significant happens or is discovered that is science-based and has profound effects on the world.  John Wyndham’s The Chrysalids and Greg Bear’s Darwin’s Children are good examples of this.
2. SF literature is about ideas.  “What if” is a frequent premise that sets an often largely character-driven story toward resolving some deeper question about humanity, social behavior and evolution. “Good SF,” says Sawyer, “is usually about something very profound, such as whether or not God exists”—see Sawyer’s Calculating God, for instance.
3. SF is about something large. In keeping with “what ifs” and the deeper questions, science fiction— whether set on Earth, outer space or some other planet, dimension or universe—is usually multilayered and metaphorically portrays a large concept through a whole world.  World-building (and setting too), when done well, not only follows good science (see point number 4) but also encompasses theme and provides plot-issues to convey your theme.  In other words, the “world” you build is a main character. Ursula Le Guin’s The Dispossessed provides an excellent example of this. So does Stanislaw Lem’s Solaris.
4. Science Fiction and Fantasy  are very different, antithetical genres, says Sawyer. SF stories are often created from a scientific premise; you can usually get there from here by following a premise based on some current scientific thought (albeit imaginatively). Fantasy is based not on science but on the fantastical (usually magic). It’s important to know what you’re writing.
5. SF literature must portray science accurately. Most science fiction readers expect that you will have done your research on how that gizmo works or that you carried out a logical extrapolation of the theory of relativity when using it in your SF story.

Okay, now go out and write!

Recommended Reading:

Munteanu, Nina. 2009. “Alien Architecture: Building from Scenes to Worlds” In: The Fiction Writer: Get Published, Write Now! Starfire World Syndicate. Louisville, KY. 5-18pp

Munteanu, Nina. 2009. “House or Home…Creating Memorable Settings” In: The Fiction Writer: Get Published, Write Now! Starfire World Syndicate. Louisville, KY. 71-79pp

Sawyer, Robert J. 2003. “Breaking into the Science-Fiction Marketplace”. In: The Canadian Writer’s Guide. Official Handbook of the Canadian Authors Association, 13^th Edition. 2003.

“Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, For the straightforward pathway had been lost.” — Dante Alighieri (Divine Comedy)

“Summoned or not, the god will come.” — Motto over the door of Carl Jung’s house

According to Christopher Vogler (author of The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers) “all stories consist of a few common structural elements found universally in myths, fairy tales, dreams, and movies. They are known collectively as The Hero’s Journey.”

The Hero’s Journey is essentially the three-act structure of the ancient Greek play, handed down to us thousands of years ago and consisting of Beginning, Middle, and End (also known as Opening, Development, Conclusion or “the decision to act”, “the action”, and “the consequences of the action”).

Dating from before history, the Hero’s Journey duplicates the steps of the “Rite of Passage” and is a process of self-discovery and self-integration. The Hero’s Journey is a concept drawn from the depth psychology of Swiss psychologist Carl Jung and the scholar and mythologist Joseph Campbell, author of The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Jung proposed that symbols appear to us when there is a need to express what thought cannot think or what is only divined or felt. Jung discovered reoccurring symbols among differing peoples and cultures, unaffected by time and space. He described these shared symbols as archetypes which are irrepressible, unconscious, pre-existing forms of the inherited structure of the psyche and manifested themselves spontaneously anywhere, anytime. Campbell suggested that these mythic images lay at the depth of the unconscious where humans are no longer distinct individuals, where our minds widen and merge into the mind of humankind. Where we are all the same.

Campbell articulated the life principles embedded in the structure of stories. He recognized that myths weren’t just abstract theories or quaint ancient beliefs but practical models for understanding how to live. Ultimately, the hero’s journey is the soul’s search for home. It is a long and tortuous journey of the soul seeking enlightenment-redemption-salvation only to find it by returning “home” (though, often not the home they’d previously envisioned). It is a journey we all take, in some form.

Heroes are agents of change. In The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell defines the hero as “the champion not of things to become but of things becoming; the dragon to be slain by him is precisely the monster of the status quo.” The hero’s task has always been to bring new life to an ailing culture, says Carol S. Pearson, author of The Hero Within. Julia Cameron reiterates this in her book, The Artist’s Way, when she describes the concept of art as a healing journey (not just for the individual but for a culture). This is because the writer/artist changes society by changing themselves.

In The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers, Christopher Vogler tells writers that we are “storytellers.” He says that “the best of them have utilized the principles of myth to create masterful stories that are dramatic, entertaining, and psychologically true.” Vogler goes on to say that “the Hero’s Journey is not an invention, but an observation. Vogler suggests “that the Hero’s Journey is nothing less than a handbook for life, a complete instruction manual in the art of being human.” This is why the Hero’s Journey model for writing is so relevant; because it appeals to all readers. We are all on a journey.

In some versions of the Holy Grail story, relates Pearson, the hero reaches a huge chasm with no apparent way to get across to the Grail castle. The space is too great for him to jump across. Then he remembers the Grail teaching that instructs him to step out in faith. As he puts one foot out into the abyss, a bridge magically appears and he is saved.

Anyone who has left a job, school, or a relationship has stepped out into that abyss, separating them from the familiar world they’ve known.

Just as “the knights of King Arthur’s Round Table set off to seek the Holy Grail,” says Mary Henderson, author of Star Wars: The Magic of Myth, “the great figures of every major religion have each gone on a ‘vision quest’, from Moses’ journey to the mountain, to Jesus’ time in the desert, Muhammad’s mediations in the mountain cave, and Buddha’s search for enlightenment that ended under the Bodhi tree.”

The journey, and the abyss, is often not a physical adventure, adds Henderson, but a spiritual one, “as the hero moves from ignorance and innocence to experience and enlightenment.”

This article is an excerpt from Nina Munteanu’s The Fiction Writer: Get Published, Write Now! (Starfire World Syndicate)

Apart from having a compelling story to tell, the next important thing you need to do is tell it well. While the first part of this equation is up to your imaginative powers, the second part is easily learned and skills easily acquired. Quite simply, this is done using powerful words. Every single word counts. Period.

In an inspirational lecture some years ago, Ray Bradbury told me that everything, EVERYTHING you write is metaphor. He meant every word. Think of it. Think of how every element of your writing illuminates your story. How does your setting help illuminate your characters or their conflicts? How does a character’s speech illuminate his/her background or lifestyle? How does a description create mood or affect pace?

So, how do you do that? Make every word count?

This is accomplished in many ways. Here are ten tips on word wizarding that will help:

1. Use “power verbs”—I don’t just mean active vs. passive (e.g., stay away from was, am, is, were, being, have; is believed, was seen)…I’m talking about finding a verb that scintillates and compels, a verb that captures exactly the mood, scene, action (e.g., instead of “he put his hand in his pocket, you could say his hand dove into his pocket or dug into his pocket or slid or fumbled or…get it? This tells us so much more about HOW he felt in his action). Verbs best convey the mood and the action. Using a power verb also prevents the need for superlative modifiers (e.g., adverbs or adjectives, can almost always be replaced with a powerful verb).

2. Try to remove as many adverbs and adjectives as you can and replace with powerful verbs, particularly where you want the pace and tension to heighten.

3. Avoid weak sentence starts (e.g., nothing is going on: “He walked into the room” instead of, say, “Leisha stormed into the lounge, eyes searching for a victim”) and end each sentence with a strength (i.e., the important thing you are conveying should appear at the end of the sentence as opposed to some added on detail that often “dangles” at the end; this weakens the whole sentence).

4. Be aware of cadence and vary it and sentence length within a paragraph (reading your stuff out loud often helps).

5. Remove filler words…e.g. Jimmy paid more for (the) rent (that he accrued) because Sam hated him. Avoid unnecessary modifiers and additions (e.g., “in the case of”, “of…something”, “degree of”, “of the fact that”, etc. Less is more.

6. Watch for and remove redundancies (e.g., general consensus, on first entering, totally devoid of, first introduced, flawless perfection, etc.). Use repetition sparingly, only to make a point (when used this way it can be very effective). Check for two sentences saying the same thing (even if in a different way) in a paragraph.

7. Take out “in” phrases (e.g. “in color”, “in size”, “in shape”, etc.).

8. Look for and remove clichés.

9. Use lots of dialogue and remember to break up your text into fairly short paragraphs for reader ease.

10. Use metaphors, similes and alliteration. These help to give description a double purpose by describing something but also ascribing it a mood and quality in keeping with the POV character.

If you use any of these techniques, I guarantee that your writing will improve.